


Mulled Wine and Ugly Sweaters

by vivaldis_lover



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Christmas Party, Drinking, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 18:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17188019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivaldis_lover/pseuds/vivaldis_lover
Summary: A cup of mulled wine offered by a stranger at the Christmas market turns into something bigger.





	Mulled Wine and Ugly Sweaters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shippedgoldstandard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippedgoldstandard/gifts).



Keith grabbed the edges of his hat and pulled it over his ears, that he was pretty sure were turning blue.

He didn’t really _want_ to be there, but he had promised Pidge a couple of weeks before to help her with some Christmas shopping and he cared about honoring promises. But he didn’t hold a particular love for Christmas markets: first, from a strictly practical point of view, they were far too crowded for his liking. Strangers pushed him from all sides and stopped in the most inconvenient places, leaving no room to move around them. On a more personal note, Keith had never loved celebrations, since he was an orphan who had grown in the system. Yes, the lights were pretty and he certainly appreciated that there were a lot more sweets and pastries going around, but Christmas songs and decorations didn’t tap inside him to reawake any childlike wonder and nostalgia.

Also, he was going to lose Pidge, unless she slowed down. She was having the time of her life, and he was happy for that, but he didn’t want her happiness to come at the price of getting lost. He was trying to keep up with her, but she was a lot better than him at making her way in a crowded market.

“I just want to look at those scarves!” she said, as she managed to sneak between a couple.

“Pidge, what scarves?!”

Too late: she was gone. Keith tried to figure out the direction she had taken, with no results. He grumbled and made his way through the crowd, looking around to see if he spotted his friend.

 _“Maybe it’s better if I stay put,”_ he thought.

He stopped in the space between two stands, cursing that cold air that he was not used to, since he had been raised in the south. He tried to call Pidge, but she probably didn’t hear the phone. He tried another couple of times, again without success.

_“Where the hell did she go?”_

He looked at the time: they were supposed to meet Pidge’s brother Matt in an hour and have dinner together, but he was not going to resist another hour outside. He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and breathed, to heat up his nose.

He was also starting to feel a little hungry and the combination of cold and hunger was putting him in a foul mood. He glanced at the stand on his left, where two guys were selling pastries and hot beverages. He was considering buying something, when one of them anticipated him and walked out of the stand to offer him a cup of mulled wine.

Keith stared at the wine and then at the guy wide-eyed: the look on his face must had been pretty telling.

“On the house,” reassured him the guy holding the cup.

He tentatively took the cup in his hands and let out a moan of pleasure when the hot surface came in contact with his skin.

“Thank you.”

“You looked very cold and a bit lost.”

“I’m both,” said Keith, starting to sip the wine.

The guy let out a soft chuckle. In the stand the other man was taking care of a couple of costumers. The one who had brought him the wine seemed reluctant to go back.

“What’s your name?” asked Keith.

“Mh? Oh, I’m Shiro. That one is Hunk.”

“I’m Keith.”

“You don’t seem to like the cold very much, why are you here?” asked Shiro.

“I promised a friend I would have helped her with some Christmas shopping, but it seems like she decided she didn’t need my help.”

“And she abandoned you.”

“All on my own, in the middle of the market,” complained Keith.

The wine he was drinking was _amazing_. The spices had been perfectly measured, so that no one was overshadowing the others. And the heat was doing miracles for his mood. Maybe Shiro’s company was also contributing to bettering it.

“How do you resist all day in the cold?” asked Keith.

Shiro shrugged. “You get used to it. Also, we have no choice.”

“True.”

Shiro was, by far, the most attractive guy Keith had ever laid his eyes on: he was tall and muscular, with a jawline so sharp he was sure he could have cut his hand on it, but he also looked kind and gentle when he moved. He wished they could have talked a little longer, but Shiro was called back inside by Hunk.

He felt a bit guilty about leaving without buying anything, so he followed Shiro to the stand and asked for three Danish pastries.

“These are made with Hunk’s secret recipe,” explained Shiro as he handed Keith the bag.

“If they’re half as good as the wine, they’re gonna be fantastic,” said Keith.

In that moment, Keith’s phone chimed: it was Pidge, who seemed to be irritated by Keith’s absence.

 _“Where are you?”_ she asked.

“Where am _I_? Where are _you_! You run away and left me behind!” protested Keith.

_“I did?”_

“Yes!”

_“Ops, sorry. Anyway, Matt called, he’s already here. He asks if we want to head somewhere warm instead of waiting in the cold.”_

“Of course we do,” said Keith.

 _“Perfect. I’ll see you at entrance of the market!”_   And with that she hung up.

Keith sighed and put the phone back into his pocket. He looked at Shiro and smiled weakly.

“Gotta go,” he said.

Shiro smiled back at him. “Of course.”

“Thank you for the wine.”

“It was nothing.”

Keith made his way out of the market with a silly smile on his face: he had no idea that a cup of mulled wine offered by a handsome stranger could make his day so much better.

*

Keith and Allura looked at the batch of burnt cookies and then at each other. Matt had been _adamant_ about having gingerbread cookies at his Christmas party, but he had made the mistake of trusting Allura and Keith with the baking.

“Who’s gonna tell Matt?” whispered Allura.

“Not me.”

“Okay!” they heard Matt shout from the living room. “I smell burnt stuff and it better not be the cookies!”

“It was Allura’s fault!” immediately said Keith.

“It was _not_!” she protested.

“I don’t care whose fault it was, I’m gonna kill you both!”

Keith would have never expected Matt to be this stressed and stressful about hosting a Christmas party. It was not even a big or formal one: it was just going to be an ugly sweaters themed Christmas party with the three of them, Pidge, plus Lance and a couple of Lance’s friends that Keith had never met. But Matt had been insufferable for the entire day, running around to add decorations, rearrange the candles and taste the food to make sure it was perfect. He had delegated the care of the cookies to Allura and Keith as he set the table with the food and the drinks, but he had made a huge mistake: they were both equally terrible at baking.

“I’m so sorry, Matt,” apologized Allura.

Matt took a look at the tray and put his hands over his face. “My poor children…”

Keith raised his hand, thinking whether it was appropriate or not to pat him awkwardly on the shoulder, when the intercom buzzed.

“ _Oh_ , they’re already here!” exclaimed Matt in a slightly hysteric voice.

Pidge, who until a moment before was in the living room to put on some music, intervened to calm her brother, as Allura went to answer the intercom.

“Matt, relax, it’s just the cookies. Everything else is perfect.”

It was again Allura who opened the door to the guests. Keith went in the living room to greet them, leaving Matt to mourn the cookies, and in front of him, wearing the most stupid Christmas sweater one could imagine, appeared the man who had rescued him a few days before at the Christmas market with a cup of mulled wine.

“Oh,” said Shiro. “Hi there.”

“Hi,” said Keith, a little too enthusiastically.

They stood there like two idiots, staring at each other as everyone around them exchanged greetings. Shiro had somehow found the worst Christmas sweater Keith had ever seen, that had a frog wearing a Santa hat and the writing _Let’s kiss under the MistleToad_ on it.

“Nice pun,” said Keith.

“Nah, it’s terrible, but it goes well with the theme.”  

Lance materialized next to Keith and draped an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “I deduce that you two have already met.”

“At the Christmas market,” explained Shiro. “He looked like he was going to die of hypothermia, so I gave him a cup of wine.”

Keith’s eyes fell on Lance’s sweater.

“ _Tits the season_? Really?”

“Allura thinks it’s funny.”

Shiro followed Matt, who was showing the guests where to leave their jackets. It had been Lance’s idea to invite Hunk and Shiro at the Christmas party: they were both new in town and had no other friends to celebrate with except Lance, so instead of doing something just the three of them, Lance had taken the initiative of introducing them to his old group of friends.

“They are quite handsome,” said Allura sneaking up right behind Keith, startling him.

“Do you really think Lance’s sweater is funny?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

“It’s really not.”

Since everyone had arrived, Allura took it as a sign that they were finally allowed to eat. Between the two of them, Hunk was clearly the one who was most intimidated by new people and he was currently following Lance around the apartment. Shiro was already praising Matt and Pidge’s cooking.

After tiptoeing around him for a while, Keith finally found the occasion to have Shiro all by himself and he approached him with a glass of wine.

“I see you have survived the cold,” said Shiro, accepting the wine.

Keith laughed, maybe a little lauder than intended.

“I hope you’re having a good time.”

“I am, I was really excited to meet Lance’s friends.”

Keith nodded, trying to act natural, as he felt a hint of awkwardness creep up his spine. He desperately wanted to turn that instantaneous market crush into something more, but those kind of crushes were not meant to be something more. Usually. But he was known for being the stubborn kind.

“What a coincidence, uh?” said Shiro.

“A really pleasant one.”

They didn’t know their interactions were being watched, very intently, by one of the guests who had very specific plans for them.

“Look at them,” said Lance, as he and Pidge rearranged presents under the tree.

Pidge frowned and Lance nodded towards Shiro and Keith.

“Are they standing right next to the mistletoe on purpose or what? Seems like they are consciously avoiding it.”

“Why do you care?” asked Pidge.

Lance looked around and gestured to Pidge to come closer.

“I’m kind of hoping to set them up,” he whispered. “And if they don’t move under that mistletoe, I’m gonna have to physically push them underneath.”

“They would make quite the beautiful couple, but I’m not confident you’re capable of playing Cupid.”

“Just watch me.”

He stood up and marched towards the two unaware men, fueled by the desire to prove himself. It was Shiro who saw him approach them first and flashed a smiled, with a hint of fear in his eyes.

“Keith!” he exclaimed, throwing an arm around Shiro’s shoulders. “So it’s you the handsome stranger that Shiro was talking about the other day!”

Shiro froze with a smile on his face that turned fake in the blink of an eye and Keith raised his eyebrows, not sure if he had heard right.

“Oh, really?” he asked, a little too hopeful.

“Of course not,” said Shiro through gritted teeth. Keith saw Shiro’s hand crawl up behind Lance’s neck and grab it, as a warning to drop it. Lance knew how strong Shiro was and got the message that he was trying to send.

“No, I was just joking,” he stuttered out. “Obviously.”

He turned to Pidge, who was looking at him with a face that said _I knew it_.

*

By the end of the evening, Keith had downed more glasses of wine than he could count, trying to give himself the courage to approach Shiro again. In the end, he only gave himself an intoxication.

Matt found him sitting on the edge of the bathtub, while everyone was getting ready to go home. He quickly took a look at Keith.

“You don’t seem like you’re okay to ride,” said Matt.

“There’s someone who can ride me if he wants.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

He grabbed Keith’s hand and pulled him on his feet.

“You can either crash here or Shiro can take you home. What do you choose?” he asked.

Keith nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, home.”

He didn’t remember being dressed and shoved in Shiro’s car, but it must have happened at some point. He focused on the road in front of them, as some indie band played in the background. His eyes traveled from the road to the radio and finally they landed on Shiro’s hands holding the wheel.

“I’m very happy you were at the party,” he said.

“I noticed. It’s the third time you tell me that,” replied Shiro with a smile.

“Oh,” mumbled Keith. “That’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not, don’t worry.”

“I may be a bit drunk.”

“It’s barely noticeable.”

Keith didn’t even notice they were at his place. He made a surprised noise when he saw his apartment’s windows and pointed them at Shiro.

“We arrived.”

Keith looked outside and then at Shiro.

“Thank you.”

He put a hand on the car door’s handle and stopped. A thing had been bugging him since Lance had interrupted their conversation earlier that evening. He turned to face Shiro, who looked at him with a confused expression.

“Was I really not the hot stranger at the market?” he asked.

Shiro smiled awkwardly and coughed, attempting and failing at putting on a neutral expression.

“Well, uh…”

Seeing the man’s reaction made Keith a little hopeful. He leaned into Shiro’s personal space, observing his face as he tried to read the answer there.

“Please, say it was me,” he mumbled. That was supposed to be a thought but he ended up saying it out loud.

Keith’s hand was now on Shiro’s seat, to keep his balance as he leaned in closer. He had to say, Shiro’s ability to keep eye contact in that situation was admirable.

The man finally closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“It was you, yes.” He slumped back against the seatback. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable during the party and-“

“You joking? You think I always drink this much? I didn’t have the balls to start another conversation and I’ve been dying the whole evening to know if that stranger was me, cause you’re so _hot_ , man, and I hoped the party was going to end with you and I hiding in the bathroom-“

“Okay, I got it,” interrupted him Shiro.

“Thank you, I was definitely going to say something that I was going to regret.”

Shiro started laughing.

“We’re two idiots,” he said.

“Now that we cleared that, can I kiss you?”

Shiro smiled and nodded.

Keith’s lips tasted of sparkling wine and Shiro’s of whipped cream. It was not a great kiss: Shiro had no idea what to do with his hands and Keith nearly missed Shiro’s mouth, but it came at the end of an evening of tiptoeing around each other and it felt like heaven. There was just the hint of a stubble on Shiro’s chin and when he felt that, Keith couldn’t resist passing a hand on it.

“Wow,” panted Keith when they parted.

“That was great.”

“Yeah, not really, but. I have a chocolate cake that Pidge gifted me a couple of days ago and it won’t eat itself. So how about we have some of that and, maybe, try again?” he proposed. “I would offer you something to drink but I think I had enough of that.”

Shiro laughed softly.

“I would love that.”


End file.
